


Volatile Times

by fireandthethud



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Adult Content, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Alternate Universe - The Force Awakens, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, F/M, Hate to Love, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mafiastuck, My First Work in This Fandom, Obsession, Recreational Drug Use, Reylo - Freeform, Romance, Sexual Tension, Smoking, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-11 09:33:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5622406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireandthethud/pseuds/fireandthethud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The Force Awakens" set in an angst-y, Alternative Universe.</p><p>The Force is described as a sixth sense that certain people are born with - but must learn to harness this ability. The Jedi ways of training are more peaceful and exist to show those who are Force-sensitive how to contain their gift in modern society. The Sith ways of training include the same principles, but focus more on controlling your abilities and using them to your advantage.</p><p>Kylo Ren works for a Mafia/Drug Cartel. The Mafia, known as the First Order, produces and exports a powerful pill known commonly as "the Force" with its main purpose being to enhance the abilities of Force-sensitive individuals. After having maintained strong connections with their producers and consumers across the globe for almost a decade, the Order find it rather easy to conquer cities and continents.</p><p>For years, the First Order has been fighting against the Rebellion for control and now the two come to a clashing point when information on the long-missing Luke Skywalker comes to surface. Will the Rebellion win against the First Order or will the world as they know it be plunged into a vicious and long-lasting darkness? Only time can tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, this is some slow-build, slow-burning Reylo trash that I wrote. I posted this fanfiction a few days ago, but after being unsatisfied with what I wrote I deleted this and - voila! Now this fic exists to take its place. Personally, I like this version more, but I would really appreciate some constructive criticism and any ideas some people might have for the upcoming chapter (I have a vague idea of what I might write, but I still would like some inspiration).
> 
> Please be kind, I know this fic is a lot to take in (lol just look at the tags - not really your average AU?), but let me know what you thought. Thanks for clicking here and stopping by, means a lot.

Chapter One

_Years ago, there were human beings born in this galaxy with a sixth sense known as the Force._

_His mother’s side of the family had held in it their bloodstream. It had travelled through their bodies like liquid fire and had been passed down from parent to child as if it was a simply exhale of breath._

_So strong, so beautiful, so useful – yet, just like any single one of the human senses, the Force needed to be tamed and trained._

*****

The house was in a relatively rich part of the city, and perhaps that was why no one suspected what was going on there. It appeared that either the police was unaware of the Force spreading through the underground world of street narcotics or that they were aware and simply did not know what to do with it.

They walked down a dimly lit, black hallway until they reached a semi-open door. There was a deep silence throughout the whole stroll and their entire entrance, yet someone from inside the room still managed to hear them. A voice spoke up that made the hairs on the back of Ben’s neck stand up and made his shudder underneath his dark coloured layers:

“I see that you have arrived… Hux… And a friend, I believe?”

Hux was forced to verbally voice is thoughts, “What do we do?”

Ben smirked with confidence; he _adored_ the idea of feeling in power and being in control. It was so utterly fulfilling. Instead of replying to Hux’s question, the black haired boy strode over towards the door and pushed it open some more, entering first. When he entered the room, the first thing he saw was a long rectangular table in the center of the chamber. The room was dimly lit and the space as a whole was coloured black and charcoal gray. 

At the head of the table, was a man with his back towards them. He sat in a vintage high back chair, cloaked in black robes that stood out against his pale skin, a delicate shade of ivory. When he turned to look at the two visitors within the room, Ben saw that the man had even more unique traits; black eyes so dark that they seemed to merged with his pupils, gaunt fingers and hands; fair, almost non-existent eyebrows and several scars dancing across his flesh – one on his right cheek and another beginning at the top of his head and traveling down his face until it reached his eyebrows.

He stood up slowly, turning the chair around with him and sat back down. His face was like a mask, emotionless and relaxed:

“You may address me as Supreme Leader Snoke. I am a Sith Lord. What are your names?”

 _Sith Lord,_ the words rang through Ben’s brain. Finally, he remembered it was a term used to describe a man with great power (who practiced the Dark arts).

“My name is Hux.” Said the red haired man

The man’s black eyes bore into Ben and it both made his nervous. 

“My name is Ben Solo.”

Snoke nodded and Ben pictured him mentally smiling smugly. The Supreme Leader’s features remained the same, untouched by any sentiments, and he continued, “Who are your parents, Ben?”

He brushed some ebony hair out of his eyes and spoke again, “Han Solo and Leia Organa.”

Snoke seemed to muse over his words for a moment, and then he motioned towards the chairs placed around the long table and told the two men to sit down.

His voice was calm, but if he did express emotion, Ben believed that Snoke would have seemed interested, “Are you both Force-sensitive? Have you tried to see if you are?”

The two young men were surprised. Hux shook his head and Ben was watching the Supreme Leader, lost in his thoughts and unable to reply. Snoke’s black eyes turned to look at a pair of brown irises, “You very well could be, especially if it runs in your family. Did your maternal grandfather not dabble in the dark side and was he not Force-sensitive?”

“Yes he did.”

“Is there something you are not telling me, Ben?” 

Snoke clasped his hands together and placed them on the table top. Ben felt a feeling of discomfort wash over him and he clenched his hands into fists under the table. It was almost a nauseous feeling that he felt, as it enveloped him like a sheet over his head; a Sith Lord was someone in their community who he had been taught to be wary around. 

_Honesty and loyalty go hand in hand, Ben._ He heard Snoke speaking. 

Yet, the man’s lips did not move. At first he believed he was going mad, though when he calmed down his racing heartbeat he realized that he was still sane and intact… it just resembled although the Supreme Leader was in his head.

He cleared his throat, feeling Snoke’s thoughts slowly fade out and leave his mind, “Yes, I have. I have trained in fighting and meditation with my Uncle, Luke Skywalker ever since I was young-”

 _You are still young, boy._ A voice said in his head.

He scowled slightly, _No. I am not a child. I am almost a man; in two springs, I shall be eighteen._

Ben cleared his throat once more before continuing, “He has mentioned the Force to me, the drugs I have heard you make and export… He told me that my Grandfather, his father, Anakin Skywalker, dabbled with both types of Force…”

 _“But?”_   Snoke pressed, interested in hearing what Ben Solo could possibly have against young Skywalker.

“… But… I feel although his methods of training do not satisfy me. I believe that I do want to master my gift but the Jedi ways are not in my preference… “

“I see.” the Sith spoke. “It is good that you have told me this. Either way, you would not be able to train with both Jedi and Sith at the same time, you know that?”

Ben nodded.

“Good. Who would you prefer to work with, boy?”

The nickname bothered him, like a bite caused from a pesky insect, yet he bit his tongue and said nothing at the thought.

He caught himself looking at his own reflection on the shiny table top, and looked back up at Snoke, “The dark ways intrigue me, Supreme Leader… My grandfather, Anakin, was successful in his practice with the Dark side and I think that I could follow in his footsteps. He was a rather powerful man… And I admire that greatly.”

Snoke nodded and pulled something out of his pocket. He did not open his fist and instead chose to slide the contents from his hand across the smooth wooden surface until they reached Hux and Ben.

“These pills are what we call the Force, yet that is just their _street jargon_. The Force is an energy that exists around and in all life forms. There are humans born with it. Some might even say it ties everything together. Not everyone can sense it; those who cannot are called not Force-sensitive individuals, while those who can are called Force-sensitive. “

“Do you work with anything besides pills?” Ben asked, curious. 

If the pale man had been open about his reactions that evening, he would have gladly resembled a man that was very pleased. He took great enjoyment when his followers wanted to know more about what they worked with; it showed that they would be good workers, strong, obedient, persuasive. 

“Yes. There are acids and mushrooms, because it is easy to make them or grow them in our facilities. They are not as popular as they used to be, because the Force is a growing product on the market for those born with the ability.”

The idea made Ben’s heart give a leap. There were _others like him_ then, people that were Force-sensitive and not satisfied with the Jedi ways of training that Luke taught to his Jedi Order. The fact that he was not alone made him rather grateful, these people would surely understand him.

Snoke motioned towards the pills with his skeletal hands and then looked back to the two men sitting at the table.

“ _Take them._ ” He said. “They can dissolve on your tongue or you could swallow them.”

Ben was the first out of the two to reach out and snatch a bag. He opened the bag, and emptied the two pills into the palm of his hand. They were round spheres, rolling around in his hand as they glistened like stars in the night sky when caught in the flashes of light. 

He popped them into his mouth and felt the pastilles roll around on his tongue before he swallowed them whole. He sat there for a minute, quiet and waiting, and then he felt something different within him.

It was not an obvious change, yet it was still a change. It was nothing compared to the satisfaction of meditation or the feeling of a weapon in his hand, yet it gave him an ability he had only read about in his Grandfather’s journals; he could sense the thoughts of those around him, crashing into his minds like unsteady waves and giving him a bolt of power. This energy flowed in from everywhere, and he soon realized that some of it was his own.

He also figured out that his powers could act out physically as well, for he was able to raise an arm, point it at Hux and watch the man become immobile in shock.

His face cracked into a mesmerized smile, his whole body filling with power, starting from the center of his spine and leaking through him like hot water. 

His head flowed with images that were both his own and foreign – a tall man with a heavy accent and the illusion of a shadow; a looming father figure who’s shadow he was desperate to escape. Foreign.

“ _Hey!_ ” The Hux cried out, shocked and outraged, “Leave my mind alone! _Stop it_ , Ben! Get out of my head!”

He shook in his seat and glared angrily at Ben, his eyes full of daggers. His hands swatted at him like how I child would attempt to swat away an insect that scared them; irrationally and in a vicious manner.

Snoke, old and observant immediately saw the shimmer in Ben’s eyes. 

The boy’s laughter filled the room. Yes, Ben was from the Light side of the Force, but when he laughed the way he now did, with the sound filling the room whole and spilling into the hallway like water overflowing its container, he thought of Vader. Ben glowing with the fact that he had control over someone was something that dangerously mirrored Vader’s actions.

Still, Snoke raised his hand into the air and then the two figures separated and Ben’s mind probe broke. Their chairs dragged them apart and turned them around so that they both faced the black eyed man.

“As you can see, Ben you are Force-sensitive. Hux, you are not.”

The mood quieted down, more serious now and Ben’s laughter was gone. There was no more of the childlike wonder that had existed some mere seconds ago, for it was now replaced by the serious façade of a boy who wanted to be a man.

“Both of you are to come here first thing in the morning, before the sunrise and the morning traffic becomes too hefty. Hux, you will be assigned to work with a friend of mine in the more ‘military’ section of our quarters. Her name is Phasma, but you may refer to her as Lieutenant Phasma. She is of higher ranking then you are. I grew up in a very military family and these names of ranking stuck with me – I find them rather useful.”

Hux nodded and Snoke gave him a look. Before Hux could even question what the look was for, he opened his mouth and spoke in a rather forceful tone:

“You will go home now, Hux. You will not speak of this with anyone except those directly involved with our organization. _That is all_.”  
Hux, as if under a trance, nodded and left the room.

Before the young Solo could even ask what that had meant, he felt Snoke’s voice seep into his mind and explain that with time and practice, one could fully harness the Force within him from the pills and create all kinds of wonders.

“Such as mind control.” Snoke said, a loud.

He was so _wise_. Not in the way that Ben had begun to see his grandfather, no, in his recent years the young man had begun to _idolize_ his grandfather. His mother, he sometimes wondered, might have suspected it all along, yet she never spoke up on the subject.

“Ben,” the Supreme Leader announced, turning to the adolescent, “I see a lot of greatness within you.”

“Why?” Was all Ben could muster - he was surprised that someone as wise as Snoke saw so much in him. It was obviously flattering, yes, but also shocking.

“It is where you are from. What you are made of. The Dark Side – and the Light. The finest sculptor cannot fashion a masterpiece from poor materials. He must have something pure, something strong, something unbreakable, with which to work with.”

The jubilation that filled the young boy’s eyes was unbelievable. It was such praise, such a compliment to be said these things. The Dark Side had so much to offer him; he was tempted beyond repair, beyond sin.

“Join me, Kylo Ren.”

He was momentarily puzzled, then Snoke blew away the smoke of confusion.

“You are no longer Ben Solo. You have left that part of you behind when you entered this room, aware of what you were getting yourself into. Is that true?”

“Yes.” He was so mesmerized _._

“You take the surname of the Knights of Ren.”

 _You will soon learn who they are,_ Snoke spoke - his voice in Kylo’s mind.

The boy nodded his head in understanding, brushing some dark hair out of his eyes. 

“You must prove your loyalty to me to become my apprentice. I will train you in the Force – with both traditional methods and the methods held within the pastilles. You will be so much. But you must prove that you are willing to do anything for the First Order.”

“Anything.”

“You must rid yourself of your past. You must vanquish the light within you.”

“How do I do this, Supreme Leader?”

God, how the youth was so famished for power, it was almost urgent. 

When Snoke spoke, his voice was quiet as always, but had he been like any other man his voice would have carried a strong undertone of persuasion:

“You will join the Knights of Ren to Luke Skywalker and you will destroy his Jedi Order.”

The task was not an easy one, if anything it seemed very painful, but he understood and was eager to prove himself.

After a brief moment of silence, he turned to leave. When he reached the doorway, his pale fingers barely brushing against the wood of the entrance, he heard the old man’s voice fill the room. It was emotionless, as always, of course, yet in made his blood chill and it made him see how he was truly no longer a child. He had made a conscious decision and this was the truth:

“One more thing, boy…”

He turned around and looked at Snoke’s figure who has pulled away the heavy curtains opposite to the table and was now gazing out into the night. The city skyline illuminated his shape and cast a soft glow on the edges of his suit; it made him appear all the more powerful, so wealthy and so aware of all that he had created.

“Had Hux not accepted my offer, had you not accepted my offer, there would only be one solution to the issue. I would show the most amazing ability that comes with mastering the Force; I would kill you without even touching you. I cannot have people running around this city, aware of what goes on under my roof and within these rooms. No, never. The information shared is too vital. Regardless of how strong our empire is.”

The last sentence, caught his attention, but he was too smart to question it.

*****

**Nearly ten years later**

The rain was violent and cold as it fell from the murky, gray sky. It drenched the buildings and the streets, it soaked into his clothes and it shivered into his soul. How he hated the cold.

Years before, some three weeks before he had participated in the murder of the Jedi Order, he had heard his mother’s voice in a dream. 

Looking back, Ben Solo saw the action as her trying to bring him back to the Light. She was his mother, and like most mothers, they managed to see the best and the most hope within their children.

Kylo Ren, on the other hand, sneered and shivered at the memory. When the night came back to him, it made his fingers twitch with discomfort and made him reach for his cigarette packet.

Leia spoke to him, her voice soft and gently while it snowed outside. She pleaded with him, and when she materialized in his dream, the touch of her hand against his cheek felt so real that it made him shudder:

_“You’re so much like your father, you hate the cold. It makes you bitter.”_

He had laughed sourly, _“Do not compare me to him.”_

_“He tried his best to be the best father he could. He still does, he loves you so much. You mean so much to him, Ben-“_

His voice shook with anger and disappointment, _“My name is not Ben, mother! My name is Kylo Ren! Is that not clear to you? I have changed; I am no longer Ben. Ben was so weak! I am not-“_

 _“Sweetheart,”_ he could detect the slightest note of sadness within her voice, _“please, come home. Redeem yourself, it is not too late. Your father does not know what you have joined, and I do not intend to tell him because he would not underst-“_

 _“Exactly,”_ he cut her off. His voice sharp like knives, _“he would not understand! Now leave me be!”_

He woke up that evening, still in the same city that he had always been after deciding that he was leaving Luke.

That night had been a long time ago, yet he could still remember how fresh his tears had felt against his own skin.

He had always been an emotional child, and his mother had nearly always managed to coax him into doing something. He loved Leia with a _fiery_ passion, one that a true son holds so near to his heart. Of course, he would never admit it, not now.

Or really, Kylo Ren would rather _die_ with a bullet to the head than say so.

Ben Solo, one the other hand, would be the type of son who would go running if his mother ever needed anything. Ben Solo would have done the same for Han, but he tried to keep that part of him under a lock and key. 

Ren was a skilled in combat and he was agile. He was powerful when it came with manipulating minds, yet he lacked the discipline of his emotions. His temper still raged, as vehement as it had always been.  A flaw, much to his annoyance: his eyes always gave him away.

Kylo pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, and fixed the strap of his leather golf bag where he carried his weapons and his gear. His dark hair, long enough that the ebony locks curled and reached his defined jaw line, blew against his face and obscured his eyesight. With a growl, he pulled a black balaclava from the inside of his coat. His hands, red and raw from the cold mid-November weather, he slipped the hat on and showed his hands back into his pockets.

The rain kept falling; he looped a finger around the keychain of his keys. 

*****

With the loop of the keychain still around his finger, he jogged up the cement stairs of his apartment building and felt his other hand enclose over a small sphere in his other pocket.

Quickly, he snatched the pill out of his pocket and slipped it into his mouth.

Almost instantly, he felt the Force augment within him and it was more satisfying that anything he had felt in years. Hell, it was most likely one of the more satisfying things in his life. He had been training in both Jedi and Sith ways for years, ever since Snoke had taken him in under his wing and he was well on his way to mastering them both.

He was close, so close that he could practically taste the success of hard work on his tongue and smell its sweet aroma perfume around him.

As he reached the fourth floor, he could not help but give an internal sigh of pleasure at how well the pills had changed over the years. 

Mind you, he was not addicted. He refused to succumb to that, the idea, that he would give into a substance. Not that he had ever felt the urge, yet he always reminded himself about how “attachment is forbidden, procession is forbidden”. 

Hux, his acquaintance, had been appointed the position of working with General Phasma in the chemical labs while he had become one of Snoke’s apprentices – and Hux was damn talented when it came to chemistry.

Over the years, Hux had managed to increase the span of the pills, making the users feel the intensified effects of the Force (which one could naturally receive, but only after years and years of strict training) longer. Many people were pleased with the thought, and the positive impact had greatly impacted the house Snoke had once lived in.  
Of course the house still existed, but it was the only building in the estate that was truly used as what it was meant to be: a house. Snoke lived there, and the house itself was only accessible over a glass bridge that extended from the west wind.

As the years had gone by, they had come to truly become an empire and Ren had realized that Snoke had been correct to call it that, “an empire”, all those years ago. They now had connections working in the post office, the police station, and the border patrol. 

It was very easily said that they were spreading worldwide, seeing as they had consumers and producers working in South America and Asia. that being said, it was fairly well seen and spoken that the Dark Side had practically conquered their part of the world.

“It’s like in _‘The Godfather’_.” One of captured rebels had once said. “And just like in _‘The Godfather’_ , Don Corleone dies at the end and his family goes down with him.”

Shortly after, the rebel had been shot in the east wing of the estate. 

The stormtrooper, the term used for the people trained more in the military and “messy” business of things such as casual killings, had commented about the thought:

“The family didn’t go down for another, what, fifty years after Vito’s death. We have plenty of time.”

Ren had glared at him through his leather balaclava and sneered that he should not be saying that crap.

Regardless, when Kylo entered his apartment, he could sense that something was off.

The Force shook through him the way that the violent waves crash against the rocky shoreline. His mind was calm, yet he felt himself being flooded with disquiet as his eyes scanned his apartment from the doorway.

Quietly, he closed the door after himself and lay his golf bag down. He considered taking his lightsaber (a fencing sword used by Jedis and Siths alike. It was called the way it was, for when it flew out of its handle it shone brightly and illuminated its undertones well if it was caught in the light’s glimmer or the darkness’ allure), yet decided against it.

Whatever he needed to face, whoever it was, if there was anything at all, did not scare him. He had years of training and he was aware of how he ought to react and what he had to do to overpower his enemy.

His eyes, a dark brown, caught onto small details that made his anger simmer and his hands twitch. He rushed over to his desk near the balcony and searched rapidly through the newspaper clippings that had fallen off of the wall and onto the wooden surface. His hands shook with rage and his gloved fingers desperately clawed through the thousands of papers.

Mentally, he was violently screaming that he had been stupid to pin the papers onto the wall, but in the moment where he had done it, it had all made sense and it had all lead to something - the same thing that was missing.

“Skywalker… _Fuck_ … _Skywalker_ … Fuck! _Fuck!_ ”

His voice trembled with fury as slammed his fist against the table. He felt his blood pressure spike, as dramatic and clear as when a lightning bolt crashed through a stormy night sky. He ran to get his lightsaber from his golf bag, yet he stopped midway and snatched something off from the couch.

He had not seen it moments ago, yet when he felt it in his hands, he felt how soft the fabric was. He turned it over in his hands, frantic for a sign and sure enough there it was. Plain and clear in front of him to see – it had been left for obvious reasons, to show who had came and who had left, and it made his blood boil.

The Alliance Starbird was on the piece of red fabric, sewn in with black fabric and he loathed it. Every bit of it, and he swore he would burn it the first chance he got.

The Force rippled through him once more, now feeling less like something as soft as water ripples, but instead more violent like a storm in the sea. He felt its pull towards the balcony and he knew that the thief had exited through the fire escape.

He burst into a run, dashing across the room and viciously tearing open the door that lead to the balcony. The storm outside and worsened, but so had the one inside of his mind.  
It was raining as if the heavens were trying to wash out all of the bad things from the world and bring them elsewhere, but that did not stop him from climbing up the slippery railing.

He could sense someone was indeed on the roof, and that only fueled his desire to find them.

Ren nearly slipped here and there, yet he always picked himself up stronger than when he had fallen down and he hurried even more than he previously had. When he finally reached the roof, he could sense the thief’s energy pulsing from where he stood.

Ren's anger consumed him, and he struck his hand out. 

The man who had his back towards Ren, not unaware of what was going on and what he had done, but simply unaware that he had been sought out so soon was pulled back with a furious force. His voice hitched in his throat and the rained soaked his hair as he was dragged against the asphalt and into Kylo’s outstretched hand.

The sheer height of the black haired man was enough to raise the smaller man off of the ground if he raised him by the shoulders, and with the Force aiding him, the culprit was caught in a choke with his legs dangling in the air.

 _“Where is it?”_   Kylo demanded, his eyes glowering at the tan man through the eye holes in his balaclava. “What you _stole_ from me! Give it back now!”

The man was gasping for breath, the rain coating his skin. Only when Ren realized that the man could not speak when held in a choke and that he would not speak now, no matter how hard he slammed him and beat him on the roof, Ren dropped him.

He was not kind with the motion either. No, he threw the tanned man painfully against the ground, and before the thief could even form words, Ren snapped his fingers together and knocked him out without even touching him.

He was thankful that he had found him, proud of himself, although he could not control the growing nausea and remaining anger within him that what he had wanted was long gone now. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ren failed Snoke and after having his apartment broken into, he is forced to seek shelter elsewhere. Where else, but the House - the old meeting place of the First Order before they expanded their power across the city, across the country and across the continents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically this is a filler chapter! I feel like I ended it on a good note, but I also feel like I could have written more which is kind of frustrating. Well, I promise that the next chapter will be longer and include more than those before it! 
> 
> Stayed tuned, because after this chapter things will start to get interesting and (tbh) basically mirror what happened in TFA but with a modern twist. I'll try to dwell too much on the details of the movie and try and write some more "original" content in later chapters - but for now, stick with me lol
> 
> Thank you to everyone that's read this story, bookmarked it, commented or left kudos! You're all so fucking amazing, and as an author the most amazing thing that could happen is that people appreciate you. Thank you for that <33

Chapter Two

The man was out cold and pinned against the armchair in his living room using the Force. He was pacing the room, as he concentrated on his Force and dialed the phone.  
When he entered in the last digit of the phone number, he snatched the cigarette packet off of his coffee table and opened it, holding the phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear. Selecting a cigarette from the pack, he pulled out the old lighter he kept inside, and dropped the packet back onto the table with a soft thud. Using his free hand, he rolled up the leather of his balaclava slightly, so that his mouth was visible and he could place the cigarette between his lips and smoke.

As he flicked the lighter and lit the tip, someone on the other end of the line picked up.

“Hello?” The voice said.

“This is Kylo Ren.” he said, exhaling sharply from his nose before taking another puff. “I need stormtroopers to be sent here now; I need someone to investigate the apartment and the building to make sure no one is still around. There had been a break in into my home done by the Rebel side. They stole the information we had on Skywalker.”

“Right away, Sir” The voice said. “We’re sending a dispatch right this instant.”

He nodded as the speaker on the other end hung up and he did too. He placed the phone back in its charger and was mentally thankful that his line was secured. They had connections for that, thank God.

He flicked some ashes off the tip of his cigarette and into the ashtray, while his eyes slowly fell on the unconscious man in his armchair.

Thoughts raced around his mind like cars zooming down the highway: _Who is he? How did he know where I live? I have not shown my face in years to anyone or anywhere near the First Order headquarters, yet the rebels managed to acquire enough information on me to find my location? How did they know about our lead on Skywalker?_

It was frustrating, but as he crushed his first cigarette and selected a second he tried to remind himself that that was all it was – frustrating, but not something worth of letting his temper fly.

He took a deep inhale of smoke, once, twice, and then exhaled slowly. Irises the colour of Turkish coffee watched the slow rise of gray smoke past his lips and trail through his hair. His eyes glanced at the man once more, yet he decided that it was best not to remove his mask in case he awoke.

An idea came to him. Perhaps the man had left some traces as to where the information with Skywalker was on the roof. He prayed that the notes and calculations he had made had not become soaked paper with ink spills everywhere, though he would not know for sure unless he went out and checked.

He concentrated all of his Force on the figure in the armchair, as he purposefully left the door to his apartment unlocked for the arriving stormtroopers. Opening the balcony door, he felt the cold metal seemingly radiating through the soles of his shoes. He left the door open, allowing the thin, white curtains to blow gently in the breeze.

He began climbing the fire escape. Just as he had before, with the occasional slips here and there due to the wet metal, but there was less nervousness in his motives. He was calmer, mainly because he believed that there was no one on the roof now and because he needed to focus his Force on the man in the armchair. 

Finally, he felt his gloved hands scrape against the rough rock of the roof ledge and his boots press into the asphalt. He pulled his balaclava lower as he felt the cold sting of the icy wind against his black long sleeve. How he wished he had brought his coat. Regardless, he looked around the roof, examining ever corner of the large rectangle and hoping he would see some kinds of remains of his notes and thoughts. He needed to find the information.

He wanted it just as much as the Rebellion did, _actually_ , no; he wanted it more than they did.

Then, just as his anger was beginning to build and he considered awaking the thief before the stromtroopers arrived and torturing him until he got some information out of him, he saw something that sparked his information. It was a small piece of evidence, and really, in the long run it could not be worth that much, but in the moment, it made his heart skip a beat and his jaw tighten.

He cursed under his breath as he as strode over to the evidence. He crouched down; when he neared it and felt the still wet asphalt slowly soak into the material covering his knees. The leather of his gloves did not mask the feeling of the metal in his hands, as he twirled the droid’s antennae over and over in his fingers.

His anger went from something he could keep at a relatively low point to something that was bubbling and boiling over viciously when he saw the droid’s tracks in the gravel nearby. They were faint, but they were still visible, as a path of sunken in gravel stood out against the relatively even surface. He was so mad, livid that he had been stupid enough to not assume that the man had passed his information down to a droid, especially since he was from the fucking Resistance and they used droids so often, that he did not even notice he was no longer using his Force to restrain the man in the armchair and control his blackout.

He snarled, viciously, and reached for his lightsaber at the side of his belt. Feeling his hands grasp at air and not the hilt of his saber, he stood up, pacing left and right, his eyes burning into the droid’s tracks and his grasp tightened on the antennae.

He took deep breaths in and out, his fingers shaking, he was angry. How could he have let this happen! He could have caught the droid had he managed his time better or had he thought things through.

 _Wait,_ he thought, _Hux… or one of his helpers could probably analyse this in the labs? Could they not? There must be some way to track the droid… Yes…_

He felt his temper simmer down, like when a pot of boiling water was removed from its source of heat.

_Yes… And the thief, once he is interrogated, we’ll know for sure-_

The thief!

Realization of what he had done, or lack of, kicked in and he felt the bitter pang of distress bloom in his chest like a disgusting weed he might see in Hux’s lab. It spread through him, like a virus infecting his senses as his legs shook with the mere burst of harrow within him. He ran towards the fire escape, pocketing the antennae rapidly.

His worst fears were confirmed when he slipped off the ladder and onto his balcony, violently brushing he curtains away with his hand only to see a confused group of stormtroopers in his living room. 

The armchair was empty.

One of the stromtroopers spoke up, his voice masked by the metallic growl created by their metal helmets and the whole group stood out in their bright white outfits against the dark colours of his apartment, “Sir, there’s no one here. Where is your prisoner?”

He seethed, the loathing clear in his voice through his leather balaclava and he dreaded the idea of having to explain this to Snoke and feel Hux’s eyes glow with pride next to him as _he_ had not been the one to _fuck up_ , “He has escaped. He was with the rebellion.”

Several of the stormtroopers nodded, very tense and unsure of what to say since they had all seen how terrifying Ren’s temper could be when activated. Those who had not seen in first hand had heard their fair share of vivid stories. Another stormtrooper cleared his throat and spoke:

“Supreme Leader Snoke said he wishes you to leave this apartment for a while and stay at the House. He says that he if the Resistance can track you here, downtown, then they would not struggle to do it again… And if the prisoner escaped then-“

The other stromtroopers had seen the fault in their associate’s sentence before he had even finished wording his thoughts. Little did he know that he had struck a painful nerve. He had pricked one of Kylo’s tentative veins, one that hated having his mistakes acknowledged, especially if done by someone of a lower ranking than he was, and now the blood had begun to blossom in ruby droplets against his pale skin.

His jaw tightened underneath his balaclava and he raised his arm in the air and pointed it at the stromtrooper, cutting him off. Some of the white clothed figures gasped, while others stood with a body language that read unease.

The stormtrooper shot upwards, his body levitating off of the ground and his legs dangling below him, his white boots unable to grasp the ground. His hands flew to his neck, the white leather gloves clawing at what seemed like invisible hands around his throat. He voice cracked and fought for breath, coming out ragged from the interior of his mask.  
Kylo’s eyes narrowed from the holes in this mask, as scalding as flames and as soon as it had all begun. He lowered his hand with a sharp motion, causing the air to let out a soft howl around him and the stormtrooper dropped to the ground.

The crowd of men around him were to afraid to help him up, therefore they watched as the unfortunate figure collected himself and stood up, straightening his helmet and falling into a silence.

“Watch what you say next time.” Ren spat.

He shut his eyes briefly, inhaling sharply from his nose and exhaling quickly. He straightened his posture and walked past the group of stromtroopers until he reached the golf bag near the door.

He snatched the golf bag off of the floor containing his lightsaber and swung it around his shoulder before turning to face the stromtroopers, “You know why you have been sent here. Check the apartment for any suspicious trails that might have been left behind by the Rebellion and check the remainder of the building. There are droid tracks on the roof where the gravel is, and I expect some news from the lab about that by the end of week. Take any information that you might think could lead us to Skywalker or fighting against the Rebellion and have it be sent to the labs for testing or the archives for analyzing. That is all.”

With that he turned on his heel, the anxiousness of having to face Snoke with a failed mission and an even worse result grew inside of him with each step he took. Still, he knew that he at least had something positive to come out of what had happened; he had the droid’s antennae in his pocket which could give them a lead to what kind of droid it was and he remembered what the thief looked like and could describe him and see if anything came up in their system.

*****

The House was what the First Order called the large, dark building in which Snoke had first begun to accumulate his followers some fifteen years ago. It was the same house where Ren and Hux themselves had found solace in the Dark side. It brought back some memories of his first few months of training before he had been able to afford his own place – until that moment; he had lived within the House. He had seen its stories, etched upon the walls like viscous battle wounds and visible despite the thick-set windows.

Snoke, waited for him at the end of the hallway. 

It was a different room than the one used nearly a decade prior, for the old room’s windows had been destroyed by bullet holes and heat blasters. He remembered hearing about it in the newspaper, for they had connections for that. They always had connections for everything. The glass had flown across the chestnut floors and sprawled against the shiny wood as if it was an odd mural, a unique work of art - an artist’s final ode to sanity.

Now, that old room was used for storage, as was most of the House. The windows had been boarded up, the heating within the chamber cut off with the occasionally leaves here and there, dust settled on the ground and the ancient furniture as if it was a thin gray blanket.

Snoke’s new meeting room was now on the top floor of the House. It was strictly used by the Supreme Leader, on the days that he came back to check up on his old estates or to having a formal, important conversation. This was one of those days.

Kylo jogged up one of the flights of stairs, this one was a particularly annoying one, since it spiraled upwards and made him dizzy if he focused too much on it. Still, he carried on, feeling his heart beat pulsing wildly, due to the amount of stairs he had to climb and to the unease he had about telling Snoke about what he had done.

Snoke had not called on him, Snoke rarely did that. Those who were his closest followers, his Sith Lords in training, his Generals, knew when he asked something of then without the old man even having to utter a word. Ren was one of those men.

When he finally climbed the staircase, he took a moment to catch his breath and calm himself. 

"Do not show him how you feel." He whispered to himself. "He will be so disappointed in you because of the escaped thief, but if you show him how easily he can read it, it will be worse. He has been training you for years, and the last thing he needs to think is that it was all for nothing."

He composed himself in three minutes flat and strode over to the door. Masking his emotions which only years of training and a leather balaclava gave him. 

As always, the door was semi-open and he pushed it open gently, entering,

Snoke stood there waiting for him, his figure seated at the head of a mahogany table. His gaze had momentarily been looking out of the window, examining the distant city skyline. The sky had cleared greatly since the storm, now a pale blue with thick white clouds dotting across the blue and hurting Kylo’s eyes if he stared for too long.

Snoke did not turn around at first; instead he stood his ground until he deemed was a good time to speak up, “Ren, I heard there was a break in your home. And that you caught a Rebel thief. Where is the young man?”

He clasped his nervous hands behind his back as he spoke, “Yes, there was a break in. They stole the information we had to Skywalker-“

“-Oh, I have heard of that. News travels rapidly, you know?”

“Yes.”

Snoke turned around, the pale, weak sunlight illuminating his defined cheekbones and giving his skin a healthy glow, “Now about the Rebel.”

He was quiet for an instant, mulling his words over in an attempt to make the loss seem as nice as it possibly could. Slowly, like honey dripping off a spoon, he felt Snoke’s voice seep into his mind. The Sith Lord was much, much more powerful than he was, and he was so good at controlling the Force that he had the ability to slip into people’s thoughts unnoticed if he chose to do so.

_Do not make me extract the information from you, Ren. You’re better than that._

Kylo nodded and looked at the pale man in his black eyes, “He escaped me, Supreme Leader. I caught him on my roof and had him passed out in my apartment when I wanted to explore the roof before the stormtroopers arrived in hopes of finding any information on Skywalker that could have been left over.”

“Why could you not contain yourself until the stormtroopers arrived?”

“I was too curious, Supreme Leader. I am sorry.”

Snoke’s eyes remained indifferent, but he waved a hand at the thought, brushing it away for the moment. He would come back to it later; he might bring it back up in the future to remind his apprentice of his past mistakes: “Did you find anything?”

"I did.”

Kylo pulled out the droid’s antennae from the pocket of his pants and raised it in the air to show it to the older man. Snoke raised a hand of his own, stealing the antennae from Ren’s hands and having it float into his own. He was quiet as he ran his fingers against the thin metal and turned it over in his hands.

“It appears to be the antennae of a BB-8 droid, but I am not sure yet.”

“That is what I thought as well,” Ren said, “I am unsure of how the Rebel escaped – but I remember his face. I could describe him to the modern stormtroopers down in the basement.”

“Yes, do so. There are still a few stormtroopers and servants alike in the House. Use that to your advantage, Ren.”

The brown eyed man nodded and turned to leave when Snoke spoke once more:

“One more thing, Ren…”

He turned at the sound of his name, “Yes?”

“Rid yourself of that hat. The reason you had the leather balaclava in the first place was to protect your physical attributes from the Rebellion if they ever saw it. Now they have, or at least, that Rebel has. He could easily out you to his colleagues, therefore you’ll need something new.”

It took Kylo a moment to process the thought for he was unsure of what Snoke would give him to wear now – yet he trusted his Leader, for although the old man was dangerously mysterious, he was also painfully wise.

“You’ll find your new attire in room 203 by the end of the day. That is all.”

*****

At the end of the day, when the sun has set and the only sounds audible to his ears were the groans of the old house and the violent howls of the wind outside his window, he received his new mask.

They burnt his leather balaclava in the fireplace that evening, and deep within his mind, he viewed the motion as something symbolic. He was progressing further into his training, getting closer and closer to becoming a Sith Lord. The idea felt so fulfilling, as if a sweet scent had filled his lungs.

He examined his new helmet from the edge of his bed, his long legs dangled over the ledge and his feet brushed against the dark floor as he swayed them back and forth. His mask gleamed and caught onto the faint red glow cast the nearby streetlights. The shadows of the distance passing cars slipped into his room and danced across the shiny metal of his helmet. The helmet itself was made entirely of a lightweight metal – much to his surprise, as he had expected something a lot heavier. Still, he was told that it was very durable.  
And, quite honestly, owning something like it made him very proud. It made him glow internally with a power unlike any the balaclava had ever given him. It resembled the helmet of his grandfather so much, that it made him want to shout the words from the rooftops. His grandfather, Darth Vader, had become his ship that had been guiding him and steering him in the right direction for years. His greatest inspiration, his strongest dead darkness – he felt an odd connection with his deceased grandfather, feeling that Vader understood him so well.

He was not sure what the man used to look like before he wore his iconic helmet, yet he was sure he was quite the man. He had always had a title, a name before Vader, but no one around him had ever used it – thus Ren did not know what it was. Regardless, it did not matter because it was no longer a name that fit his persona; just as how Ben Solo was no longer something that suited him.

*****

He was in a desert, somewhere far away. 

The air was dry and the bright sunlight stung his eyes despite his new helmet. His dark clothing attracted ever damn ray of sunlight onto his tall figure and overheated all of his senses. It changed from a tolerable buzz, a slight sweat, to an unendurable burning heat in a matter of seconds. With a yelp of sudden pain, his gloved hands tore away at the leather over them and dropped the gloves to the ground. He pulled off his helmet, feeling it slip from his grasp and drop into the sound. As he considered removing his tunic, now prepared to do anything to end his discomfort, something caught his attention.

It was a rapid motion, a quick dart across the sand dunes in the distance, yet his brown coloured irises caught on to it regardless. Soon and suddenly, he found himself at the top of the one the farther sand dunes, able to see his discarded black clothes in the far distance, but on the opposite side of his vision he could see a town.

It was a small cluster of buildings and market places located in the flatter areas of the desert. Around the town, he saw hundreds of airplanes, air shuttles, air buses, motorcycles, hovering motorcycles, - practically everything a junkyard would lust over. Some of the vehicles appeared to be parked while others seemed to be discarded and looked although they had called the desert their home for ages.

He would assume that the desert was like any other he would see in the southern hemisphere, yet when his eyes caught sight of one particular air shuttle his lungs tightened and his eyes narrowed. Oh, he knew where he was; he was in that inconsequential desert wasteland of Jakku.

The ship was proof enough for him, for Ren would have recognized the shuttle anywhere. It was his father, the infamous and _oh-so_ great smuggler and war hero, Han Solo. Kylo had practically grown up in the Millenium Falcon.

Just as the vivid memories of playing hide and seek around the inside of the Falcon came rushing back to him like running water, he noticed something else. In a matter of seconds, he found his legs at the bottom of the sand dune and near the figure that had caught his attention.

 _How peculiar,_ he thought, _it is not unbelievable how easily and rapidly I travel?_

She parked her hovering motorcycle underneath the roof of a makeshift tent dashed in between and past tent after tent. Her voice was difficult to hear from where he stood, although he could have sworn he detected an accent somewhere in her tone.

 _British?_ Yes, indeed.

There was something about her that drew him towards her. He removed his tunic, discarding it in the sand, no longer caring if his bare arms were exposed due to his dark undershirt. 

Ren followed her through the crowd, almost losing her in the midst several times and internally growling at the way that the sand stung his skin when it blew in the wind and how quick her pace was. He took in the small features that life allowed him to see of her; her skin was tanned due to long exposure in the sun, her hair was a dark shade of brown and tied up in three complicated buns (how on Earth it stayed up puzzled him), her skin resembled rough to the touch and there something within her that caused his Force to stir like a slowly burning potion.

It made him stop briefly, the fact that there was something that he personally felt within her that made his own thoughts grow muddled. The more he focused his abilities on her, the more he grew curious. She entered a large tent, where a sign above it read ‘Metal Trade” and Kylo caught himself following closely behind her faint shadow. He was unsure if she noticed him, if anyone noticed him at all, which was fascinating as he was doing nothing to make himself invisible, but he allowed himself a slip in her mind.  
When he tried to enter, Ren found himself greeted with an uneasy entrance, but she subconsciously allowed him in. Was she unaware? The thought of it made him slightly uneasy for he was doing this purely out of curiosity and for nothing else, but that did not stop him. 

Once he was in her head, it only lasted for an instant. He caught glimpses of her unintentionally persuading others to do as she asked in the past, her odd dreams, her internal struggle to do things that were both selfless and harmful.

Ren realized what she was: she was Force-sensitive. She exhibited the symptoms of someone who possessed the Force but was did not know it. It shook through him like a bolt of electricity; there was so much light within her, she was seemingly a good person and yet there was a seed of darkness growing within her stomach like a poisonous fruit.

She felt something shift, something change, and as she turned to look in his direction he caught sight of her face. Kylo saw her for only a fistful of seconds, but it was enough to be etched inside of his brain. She was all dewy skin, hazel eyes and arched eyebrows.

She either looked through him or saw him directly, for her face molded into a confused scowl and she resembled although she was now a rather bothered young woman.

He could agree with her with one thing, they were both bothered by something now.

That, and that she had managed to cut him out of her mind as soon as he had entered.

With a swift motion, like the undercurrent in a tidal wave dragging its prey deep into the frigid and black depths, he shot upright in his bed. His hands grasped at the heavy, navy sheets of his bedspread and sweat coated his hairline. It took him a moment to calm down his heartbeat and to realize that he was still, in fact, in the House and not out in Jakku.   
In took him longer to realize that he had not just dreamt some bullshit about Jakku, but had rather he had actually travelled somewhere, a physical vision? He must have, otherwise why did he feel the way he currently was? His subconscious, Vader perhaps, was telling him that he had would see her soon. He did not know her. 

He felt the girl’s Force coursing through him, although she was a corrosive acid and she had burnt him, seeping into his bloodstream and rattling his bones until he was positively buzzed. 

The sensation of feeling someone’s Force pulse through him as strongly as her own, especially a Force that exhibited so much Light in contrast to his Darkness, was something unreal and wholly new to Kylo.

The thought made him feel dizzy. Lying down, he found an odd craving seemingly flood his body; he wanted to experience it again. 

Her power, it drew Kylo Ren in like a moth to a flame, and he wanted to feel it over and over again. Regardless of how much it might burn.


End file.
